It’s been said that Step One is the only step we have to get entirely right. Which is a good thing, because the next eleven are total bitches, quantifyingly speaking. For these, there were no diplomas, no finish lines. So, with that in mind, Step Six became a lot more manageable.
Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
Here’s the platter I place my working knowledge of the steps upon: one day at a time. Bite-size pieces. Little chunks. I understood what my defects of character were, to the best of my knowledge. I had a list, remember? And it was long and convoluted, monstrous and seemingly insurmountable. Why, in hindsight, had I been so damn thorough?
And how could I possibly be ready to have all these defects removed if there were too many to keep track of? There’s a limit to how many plates I can keep spinning at one time, and my defects far exceeded it. Running back and forth, constantly trying to maintain balance, was wearing me out, both physically and spiritually.
It never occurred to me to simply let the plates fall.
Trying to maintain vigilance over all my defects, attempting to keep them all in check, was nothing more than me trying to take control. And I’d already proven to myself that me controlling things wasn’t very helpful. In fact, it was destructive to the extreme.
So with that, the plates go back into the cupboard. Each morning is ground zero. Sure, throughout the day, I’ll pull a few out and give them a spin. That’s just what I do. But how hard I spin them, and for how long, depends on how long I want to suffer.